


Power of the Dead

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Ghosts, Good Morgana (Merlin), Guilt, Hallucinations, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kissing, Past Freya/Merlin (Merlin), Poisoning, Protective Knights (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:36:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28547229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Merlin drinks a poison to save Arthur, but it has some horrifying effects
Relationships: Freya/Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Morgana (Merlin)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 254
Collections: Numerous OTPS Infinite Fandoms





	Power of the Dead

The first time Merlin used his Magic _against_ Arthur, with the intention of harm, he could feel Excalibur’s anger. Could feel the shocked faces of the Knights looking at him, Arthur’s stare boring into the back of his neck as he turned away from his King. It was a simple silencing spell, nothing permanent, but he couldn’t have Arthur running his mouth away before Merlin had figured out what was going on.

Camelot was dying. Every grain that came back rotted on touch, the water caused sicknesses that couldn’t be cured. It seemed that Morgause, with her dying breath, put a curse upon the Pendragon lands that not even Merlin could reverse. As Court Sorcerer, it was his duty to protect Camelot from Magic, yet he’d been too busy learning alongside Morgana to stop the curse.

‘You’re saying that the cure to Camelot’s sickness is in the bottom of _that_?’ He gestured to the goblet, thought back to all the times he’d faced poison. To prove Arthur’s life was at risk, in the Labyrinth. To trying pieces of his food throughout the time in Camelot, especially when guests were visiting, out of fear that one would manage to sneak past his defences and reach the King.

‘If the liquid is drunk, then the Old Religion will be appeased.’ The man wasn’t a Druid. He knew who Merlin was, which was nice, but he wasn’t a Druid.

When Merlin told Arthur about his Magic, or more accurately, Arthur confronted Merlin when he’d found the Warlock heating up bath water, it had been a difficult time. Weeks passed with Arthur remaining cold, while Merlin tried his best to prove his loyalty. Eventually, after five weeks, Arthur told him they could work past this. That, as long as Merlin kept no more secrets, they could be friends. He hadn’t actually _used_ the word friends, but Merlin picked up the implication.

It would have been a great time to tell the King of Camelot that he was, in fact, Emrys. He could tell him the prophecy, the reason Morgana had stayed in Camelot rather than going to Morgause, all the things that Merlin had done during his time as manservant to the King.

Instead, Merlin stayed quiet, breaking the last piece of trust.

‘How?’

‘The King will suffer an illness, of hallucinations and a fever, to avenge the dead. For each life unjustly taken, a minute of agony.’ He didn’t spit it out, with hatred, like most sorcerers. He said it simply, which made the entire thing so much worse.

How many people had Arthur unjustly killed? Merlin knew his King was a good man, but he also remembered the Prince that obeyed his Father’s orders.

Arthur was trying to wriggle free of the vines that Merlin had trapped him with, lips moving but no sound being heard. Of course, he was trying to say he’d do it, that he’d suffer the price.

‘And once he’s suffered…’

‘Camelot’s curse will be lifted.’ The man promised, clasping his hands behind his back as he looked at Merlin.

‘Is it fatal?’

‘The pain is only as bad as the deaths, my Lord. Your King won’t die, but he’ll be in pain.’ Merlin was a sucker for people in pain, especially Arthur. The thought of him being hurt, when Merlin could prevent it, was bad.

If the Old Religion wanted this, then killing the man probably wasn’t wise.

‘What if I drunk it instead?’ He took a step closer to the goblet, felt his Magic strain at the effort the Knights were putting in to escape.

‘There is a clause, my Lord.’ He was hardly surprised, raised an eyebrow to the not-Druid.

‘Arthur must pay for the sins of his kin, as well.’

Uther.

The King that Merlin had feared, the man that burned his kind and executed without mercy.

One minute, for every unjust death. Uther had killed hundreds in the Purge, if not thousands.

Merlin swallowed, felt his hands shaking as he tried to stem the fear.

‘Anybody else?’

‘The Knight. He crossed into our borders, and he is of Arthur’s choosing. But I shall allow you to split the burden, so that the Knight may suffer his own wrongdoings.’

It didn’t take a genius to work out which Knight he was talking about. Merlin knew Sir Leon had served Arthur loyally, but also Uther. He would have killed a sorcerer without hesitance, all in the name of the King who killed Merlin’s kind.

‘I’ll take Leon’s share as well.’ Merlin finally said, figuring he might as well get it over with. Two people suffering would be too much of a burden. Plus, the Knight was hardly to blame, he was following the Knight’s Code.

‘Very well. Drink, and lift Camelot’s Curse.’

Arthur was screaming. Not aloud, because Merlin had spelled his mouth shut, along with the other Knights. But he could hear it, could feel the ache that came when he picked the goblet up. The liquid resembled blood, dark and thick and not at all appeasing.

‘Cheers.’ He joked, raising the goblet to the not-Druid, before bringing it to his lips.

**

When Merlin opened his eyes, his Magic provided him with the helpful knowledge that he was not alone. Blinking away the grogginess, the ache in his limbs that only got worse as he fought whoever was holding him, he looked up.

It was dark, the moon shining, but it didn’t prevent him from seeing the person in front.

‘Freya.’ He whispered, unsure why his heart ached as he did so. The Lady of the Lake smiled, taking a step closer to him.

‘You did something rather foolish, I’m afraid.’ She murmured, reaching out like she might touch him.

Merlin tried to stretch, batted away whoever was _still_ trying to hold him.

‘Freya.’ He repeated, watching as her figure blurred when someone else stepped in, a Knight with a red cape. Gwaine, his mind told him, lips moving rapidly while Freya glanced across to him.

‘Who do you believe, Merlin? Me, or your Knight?’ He finally managed to kick out of the person holding him, fingers dragging in the dirt as he tried to get to her.

‘Don’t leave me, Freya! Come back, Freya!’ She smiled, but it was painful to see, red trickling from the corner of her lips as she looked down to her dress.

It should have been white. He could have sworn it was white, not red, and when his hands hit the dirt once more, they came back with the sticky substance on them.

‘You didn’t avenge me.’ Freya’s hands moved to her stomach, to the wound that killed her, and Merlin gagged. Seeing it once was bad enough, but again?

‘I tried, I swear I tried, I didn’t mean for you to die.’ His hands shook, an arm wrapping around his waist and dragging him back as he scrubbed the blood onto his thighs, onto the breeches he was wearing.

‘Everyone around you dies, Merlin. It’s just a matter of time.’

**

People were talking. He had to conclude they meant him no harm, so he continued with his mission of rubbing his hands raw, the red skin prickling as he continued.

‘Merlin, mate, you’re going to hurt yourself.’ Worried brown eyes focused on him, warmth closing around his wrists as he tried to get the blood off.

‘Need it off.’ He muttered, staring at the flaking blood.

‘There’s nothing there, Merls.’ It was a lie. He could _see_ it, the dark red that always stained his hands.

‘The blood. I need it off.’ Whatever the Knight had been going to say, it was cut off when someone else crouched down.

Lancelot.

‘Here.’ He had a damp cloth in hand, began to wash Merlin’s hands like he’d done so many times, when Merlin was unable to do anything but sob.

‘Did you replace me?’ He choked, snapped his head to the side, where Will remained leaning against one of the trees.

‘Will?’ It couldn’t _actually_ be Will, Merlin had watched him bleed out, had tried to push Magic into a wound that wouldn’t heal.

‘I took the blame for you, Merlin.’ Merlin knew he was crying, could feel the tears trickling down his cheeks as he shook his head.

‘M’sorry, I should have been watching…’

‘You saved Arthur, but not me? I was your best mate, Merl.’ It was true. Merlin had chosen Arthur, even then. He’d always chosen Arthur, letting everyone else die.

‘I had to, I had to choose Arthur, I couldn’t…’ He trailed off, because Will was laughing, shaking his head fondly.

‘You chose Arthur, because you’re a coward.’

It was true, he supposed.

**

Someone had tried to feed him. Merlin, more than aware that people constantly tried to drug and poison him, spat it right back out.

‘I won’t do it.’ He snapped, glaring at the blurred figure in front. Strange, it almost looked like King Cenred if he focused. He could have sworn he escaped the King’s clutches, shortly after separating Morgause and Morgana.

Maybe he hadn’t.

‘Do what?’ The man questioned, another spoon of food hovering. Merlin’s wrists were tied, probably because he’d punched someone earlier, and then they’d carried him off on a horse.

‘Tell you where I took her. I won’t tell you.’ Cenred had been adamant. He wanted Morgana back, as an offering to Morgause.

But the High Priestess had been cold and calculating, even then.

‘Her?’

‘Morgana. You’re not having her.’ He’d made that mistake before, with Hemlock.

From a distance away, Merlin heard a quiet chuckle.

He wasn’t surprised when Morgause entered the clearing. Her face was scarred, eyes a golden that terrified him, and he tried to shuffle back.

‘You took my sister away from me, Emrys.’

‘Your sister deserved better than you.’ He shot back, breaking the bonds around his hands in case his Magic was needed.

There was a yelp, the spoon hitting the floor, but Merlin would always choose to fear Morgause over Cenred.

‘You’re awfully loyal.’

‘I’m not breaking.’ Merlin told her, just as he had before.

‘Not even if I tell him to start cutting?’ Cenred, or the figure that Merlin presumed was Cenred, didn’t move.

‘Cenred.’ The man winced, recoiled visibly, and Merlin concluded that the large man was not Cenred.

‘I have to say, Emrys, I didn’t expect you to kill a King.’

‘I didn’t have a choice.’ That was, admittedly, a lie.

Morgause knew it, too. She cocked her head to the side, taking a step closer.

‘No?’

‘If Cenred was alive, he’d go after Morgana.’

‘So you killed him.’

‘I’d do it again.’ He swallowed the anger that came with his sentence, watched as the High Priestess nodded.

‘Emrys, the great King-Slayer. Let’s see how long your precious Pendragon can last.’

**

‘Father.’

Merlin spoke the word, tasted it on his tongue, watched as Balinor avoided the bonfire and the selection of Knights as he approached.

‘Hello, son.’ Merlin wiggled free of the ropes, let them drop to the leaves and turn to moss, just in case they tried to restrain him again.

He wasn’t exactly sure where he was, nor who he was with, but he definitely recognised his Father.

‘I’m sorry.’ He blurted, hands creeping out and hitting the dirt, rather than the man.

‘I admit, I was surprised to find my son by a Pendragon’s side.’

‘Arthur’s nothing like Uther.’ Merlin’s defence of his King came naturally, warning his Father to stop that line of judgement.

‘Uther killed our kind. He’s the reason you didn’t have a Father raise you.’

‘Arthur didn’t know.’

‘He persecuted our kind, killed hundreds and hundreds of innocents.’ He knew it, of course. He’d seen the records, the Druid-towns burned to ashes under the Pendragon name.

‘I don’t care.’ He lied, watching Balinor’s lips quirk.

‘You don’t care that Arthur’s a murderer.’

‘Arthur’s a good man. I’d choose him over you in a heartbeat.’ The moment the words were said, Merlin clapped both hands over his mouth.

Balinor rocked back, raising up from the dirt.

‘No, no, Father I didn’t mean it…’

‘But you did choose him.’

‘I had to! People were dying, and Arthur needed… He was going to die. I couldn’t let him die.’ Balinor huffed, turning his back on where Merlin was sprawled out on the ground.

‘Who released the Dragon in the first place, Merlin?’

**

‘Go away.’

‘Now, now. Don’t speak to your elders like that.’ He shouted out in pain as her foot pressed onto his wrist, heard someone call his name.

‘I don’t regret killing you.’ He gritted out, snatching his wrist up and cradling it to his chest while Nimueh rolled her eyes.

‘You took my life, when we had a deal.’

‘You tried to kill Arthur!’ Merlin cut in, glaring.

‘And you offered a life.’

‘My life! Not my Mother’s! I would have honoured the deal, my life for his.’ Nimueh shrugged, looking over to Excalibur.

‘I was killed to bring back to the son of the man who ruined my life.’

‘For what it’s worth,’ He hesitated, then bowed his head, ‘I am sorry that Uther did that to you. I know… I know how much Ygraine meant to you.’ Nimueh looked slightly surprised, before her lips curled up.

‘She was my Queen.’

‘And Guinevere’s mine.’ Merlin responded, naturally.

‘The Once and Future Queen. Is she as great as they say?’

‘The very best. Nobody deserves the title more than she does.’ Nimueh hummed, stepping through a red-caped Knight, which Merlin was confused about.

He could have sworn that man looked like Sir Leon.

‘So you lost your lover, but Arthur gets his?’

‘Arthur and Gwen were my destiny. I completed it.’ He was tired of arguing. Tired of the screeching in his head, of the agony of trying to move. His hands moved to his hair, gripping it as Nimueh’s voice grew louder, bolder.

‘You’re going to lose them all, Emrys. Every single one of them.’

Respite came from knocking his head against the tree-trunk, hard enough that his vision blacked out.

**

He woke to a set of blue eyes. Bright, like the sky, with a mop of dark hair.

‘Mordred.’ He scrambled back, reached desperately for a weapon, for anything.

Excalibur responded to his plea, hitting his hand as he dragged himself to his feet, pointing it upwards at the boy.

‘Merlin!’ Someone shouted, but his heart was too loud, thudding away as the Druid stared at him.

‘Did you do it, Emrys?’

‘You’re dead. I killed you. You’re not real, you’re not real!’ His hands shook, clutching at Excalibur’s pommel while the Druid grinned, white teeth stained red.

‘Are you ready to see what I become? To watch Arthur fall?’

‘I killed you!’ He screeched, before the sword was hit from his hands. He didn’t make a move to retrieve her, let his legs buckle until his knees hit dirt.

‘I had to kill you. I’d already saved Morgana, I had to… you had to die. I couldn’t let you kill Arthur.’

‘How old was I, Emrys?’

He ignored him, repeating the words _I had to_ over and over, forcing his brain to remember the decision had been the right one.

But Mordred would not leave.

‘Ten summers.’ He whispered, felt the world still around him.

‘What was that?’ Mordred promoted, a gleeful smile on his face.

‘You were ten summers old. I killed… I killed you.’ Technically, he hadn’t _saved_ him. He’d seen the chaos, the bandits attacking another encampment, and he’d met Mordred’s eye. The Druid had called to him, begged, and Merlin watched as he was sliced down.

‘Was it worth it?’ The Druid asked, a thoughtful look on his face.

When Merlin rose his head, he wasn’t crying.

‘To save Arthur, I’d burn the entire world.’

That wasn’t a lie.

**

He wasn’t outside, anymore. Wrinkled hands had poked and prodded him, while Merlin tried to take comfort in the fact that he could feel a strain of Magic alongside his own, trying to comfort him.

‘Merlin.’ The old man said, who sounded like Gaius.

‘I’m not a monster.’ He wasn’t sure why it sounded so doubtful, like a question.

He wasn’t sure why he was shaking, either.

‘You’re not a monster.’ The man confirmed, placing a hand down on his thigh.

He didn’t believe him. Why would he, Merlin had done horrible things.

‘Are you sure?’ Another person asked, a voice Merlin didn’t personally recognise.

Looking back into the room had been a mistake. It was full of people, some blurry figures like the others that had visited him, while some remained solid figures.

They were burned. Charred, some completely, others injured and confused. They moved closer, Merlin making it out of the chair and pushing his Magic out, but it did nothing to deter the blurred figures. In fact, it only sent the solid people back.

‘You killed us.’ It was a confused voice, a body that might have once been a woman.

‘No, no…’ He knew who they were, of course.

He remembered every single one of them.

His hands clapped over his ears, and he took to repeating their names, the names he’d memorised for a very long time.

‘Isla, Robert, Maria…’ A lot of people had died when the Great Dragon was released. Innocents. 38 adult men, 31 women. 19 children.

He knew their names. He knew their families, and where they’d come from, and where the funeral was held.

Every name tasted bitter, but the people came no closer content to watch him speak to them.

Until he halted on the youngest, Lily. She was three-years old, or had been, when Merlin had released the Dragon.

She’d been one of the first children Merlin had witnessed being born.

‘Lily.’ He stated, watching as she stepped out of the crowd. Half of her face was melted, charred black, but she still had one bright green eye.

‘You remember us?’

‘I remember all of you. I… I’m sorry. But I made a promise…’

‘To protect your King.’

‘I needed his help, to save Arthur.’ Wasn’t that his go-to excuse? Everything, always for Arthur.

‘I didn’t want to burn.’ She told him, holding out black fingers in his direction.

‘Neither did I.’ He admitted, before acting while he still had enough clarity to do so.

They’d taken his knife, whoever these solid people were. But Merlin had a better weapon, smashing the window above his head, and reaching for the shard that fell.

He wished he felt disappointment when someone tackled the piece from his hand.

**

‘Are you dead?’ She was a lot more solid than the other blurry figures, but he could focus on her, which confused him.

‘No.’ Morgana replied softly, taking another step towards him.

‘Are you here to tell me all that I’ve done wrong?’ It was a long list, Merlin thought. Constant, a whine in his head that never failed.

‘What about the things you did right?’ She asked, sitting down in front of him.

Perhaps they were afraid. She looked scared, staring at the metal nail he’d pulled from the floorboards, slick with red as he stared at his forearm.

Did she think he’d drive it in, if she moved closer?

‘I didn’t do a lot right.’

‘You weren’t given any help, Merlin. Nobody could have succeeded.’ He considered her words, looking back to the nail in his hands.

She did have a point. He’d been alone, scared, trying to hide from Uther and the Pyre while protecting the Prince that seemed to have more enemies than friends.

‘Everyone around me dies.’ He’d told her that, when he first begged her to come back to Camelot.

‘Let me help.’ Her hand stretched out, and Merlin’s heart broke.

Her hand was trembling.

Morgana was special. She always had been, and Merlin’s heart had been conflicted from the very beginning.

‘I didn’t want to poison you.’ He choked out, pushing the nail slightly deeper.

‘I know. I didn’t want to have you chained up and whipped.’ That had him laughing, watching her lips quirk.

‘Really? You seemed happy.’

‘Maybe I was, just a little bit.’ Enemies, with a common goal.

Plus, Merlin had never hated Morgana.

‘I think that’s when it went wrong. The moment I gave you the water, the moment I watched you realise I’d poisoned you with the Hemlock…’ His heart had cracked.

Morgana’s hand closed over his, fingers slowly pulling the nail from his grasp.

‘To save Arthur. And Camelot.’

‘And Uther, the man who made you live a life of fear.’ Merlin pointed out, while Morgana’s watery eyes met his.

None of the blurry figures could get close, when she was by his side.

‘I forgive you. You hear me? I forgive you, Merlin.’ He bowed his head, ashamed at the way tears spilled.

‘I don’t deserve it.’

‘You’re not the monster of this tale, Merlin. You never were.’ Fingers reached for his chin, stained with the blood from his arm, but she didn’t falter.

‘I almost killed you.’

‘But you gave her the poison. You knew I’d live.’

‘That was me being selfish.’ He pointed out, but his eyes were turning golden, responding to the Magic she was trying to use to heal his arm.

‘How? You knew I’d come back for Uther and Arthur, knew I’d be a risk.’

‘I loved you, Morgana. I… I wasn’t going to let you die.’ Her eyes brightened, a weak smile flitting over her lips.

‘Precisely. No monster could love, Merlin.’

He wasn’t even afraid when she moved closer, when the bloody hand moved to his hair, tugging him closer until their foreheads were pressed together.

‘I’m going to knock you out, till the curse is over.’ He didn’t know what she meant, but he didn’t have to.

‘I trust you.’ He whispered, let his eyes shut as she kissed him, chastely.

It did mean he didn’t see the way her eyes turned gold with the spell, giving him no warning as the world went black.


End file.
